Past Imperfect

by Michael Parker

  Kate decided to save him from what he obviously believed was a social blunder. She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. I should have had my door locked. I will in future.’

  Kennett looked back at the twins. ‘They look so peaceful.’ He tipped his head a little to the side. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to cope?’

  ‘I’ve managed so far,’ she joked. ‘But will they?’

  Kennett laughed softly. ‘I believe children have a free spirit that tends to dominate others; particularly adults.’

  Kate walked into the room and stood beside the nearer cot. ‘They will be awake soon,’ she told him. ‘Wanting their tea.’

  ‘Tea?’

  Kate laughed. She realized that for men of Kennett’s upbringing, tea was something you had in the afternoon with bone-china cups and biscuits. Tea for the working class was the evening meal.

  ‘Their milk,’ she told him. ‘Then another about midnight.’ She reached into the cot and gently lifted the cover back. Leaning in she moved her face closer to the baby. ‘But a bath first,’ she admitted and stood back.

  Kennett grimaced a little when he realized what Kate had alluded to. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’d better leave you to it. Do you mind if I look in again tomorrow morning?’

  Kate thought he looked quite vulnerable when he said that. ‘They are your sons,’ she reminded him gently. ‘You can see them whenever you wish.’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, of course. Not used to it, you see.’ He nodded briefly. ‘I’ll be off, then. I’ll look in tomorrow.’

  He left the room and closed the door gently behind him. Kate was still staring at the closed door when she heard a snuffle as one of the twins began stirring. Her expression softened immediately.

  ‘Your father seems to be a nice man,’ she told the twin, rubbing her knuckle gently against his cheek. ‘And I never called him Mister Jeremy once.’

  The following morning, after enjoying no more than two hours’ uninterrupted sleep at any time during the night, Kate had managed to get the twins ready for a morning stroll round the grounds. She had bathed herself in the twins’ bathroom and resisted the temptation to linger in the luxury of a hot bath. Martha had provided breakfast of eggs and bacon, toast and a pot of tea. Within an hour of walking into the kitchen, Kate was outside with the twins snuggly wrapped and tucked into the blankets of their Pedigree coach-built pram. The pram was unusual in that it had been designed and built specifically for the Kennett twins by the Pedigree Company. Kate thought the blue and white paintwork was gorgeous and felt so proud as she pushed the pram past the copse of trees and the carpet of wild flowers. The pram had a specially designed canopy that shielded the twins from the sun, and it was all Kate could do to see over the top of it as she guided the pram along the path which led away from the house and towards the main gate.

  She heard the sound of a car engine powering its way up the hill towards Clanford Hall. As it drew closer she stopped and turned the pram a little, expecting to see the car roar past the open gates. But the change in the engine note meant the car was actually slowing as it approached. It swung through the gates with a throaty roar and Kate instinctively squealed with delight when she saw the bright-red Morgan sports car. It powered up the asphalt drive and stopped beside her. Kennett smiled from beneath a peaked cap.

  ‘Hello, Kate. You’re out early.’

  Kate almost bobbed, but checked herself. ‘Good morning, Mister Jeremy.’ The formality was back in place. ‘It looks like you were out earlier than me.’

  ‘Business,’ he replied stoically. He looked at the pram. ‘It’s good to see the twins out in the fresh air. Where are you taking them?’

  Kate glanced towards the open gates. ‘I thought I would go as far as the gates and then turn round.’

  Kennett knocked the car out of gear and pulled the handbrake on. ‘Look, why don’t I come with you? I should spend a little more time with my sons.’

  Kate felt a pleasurable lift in her chest. ‘That would be lovely, Mister Jeremy.’

  ‘Right, let me put the car away, and I’ll meet you outside the front of the house.’ He put the car into gear and released the handbrake. ‘Oh, one thing.’ A huge grin spread across his face. ‘Please stop calling me Mister Jeremy.’ The wheels spun briefly as he roared away leaving Kate standing there slightly stunned.

  An hour later, they were sitting in a small summer house overlooking the countryside. Kennett had pointed out a great deal of the estate that could be seen but was too far away to walk with the pram. He had talked about the origins of Clanford Hall, and how long it had been in the family.

  Kate watched him constantly as he spoke with such knowledge and eloquence about Clanford Hall and the Kennett family history. From time to time, she heard one of the twins make a sound, and silently prayed that they would sleep so that she could enjoy Kennett’s company a little longer.

  Eventually he lapsed into silence and between them they sat without saying anything, each with their own thoughts.

  ‘You love this place, don’t you?’ she asked at length.

  He turned his head towards her. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘It’s so sad that your wife isn’t alive to enjoy it.’

  Kennett laughed. ‘Margaret? She hated the place.’ His expression darkened a little.

  Kate arched her eyebrows. ‘Really? But how—’

  ‘You’re surprised?’ he interrupted and nodded sharply. ‘I can understand why. Most people who come here absolutely adore it. But the estate costs the earth to maintain and, well. . . .’ He didn’t finish but shrugged and stood up quite suddenly, looking at his watch. ‘I really ought to be getting back to the house. Lots of work to do,’ he explained without saying too much. ‘It’s been a real pleasure, Kate, but I really have to go. I do hope we can do this again.’

  Before Kate realized it, he was marching briskly across the lawn towards the house, his mind now set on something else. She watched him go until he reached the front door. She put her hand on the pram and rocked it gently.

  ‘Time for us to go too, my little ones.’ She looked back towards the house as the door was closing. ‘He’s a lovely man, your father,’ she said softly to the twins, ‘but I think he has a lot on his mind.’

  She pushed the pram away from the summerhouse and as soon as she reached the narrow roadway, she hurried up to the house. She knew the twins would be waking soon for their food. At the back of the house was a tack room, no longer used now because there were no horses on the estate. It was here that Kate wheeled the pram and lifted the twins from it. With one in each arm, and wondering how many weeks she would be able to carry them like that, she went upstairs. Within an hour, the twins had been fed and changed and were now sleeping contentedly. Kate had gone into her own room to read a book she had brought with her from the orphanage. There was a knock on the door. Kate looked up as the door opened. It was Maud.

  ‘Hello, Kate. May I come in?’

  Kate closed the book and stood up. She felt self-conscious of the fact that Maud had asked for permission. No one had ever asked her permission before for anything. Maud closed the door behind her.

  ‘I saw you out walking this morning with Mister Jeremy,’ she began. ‘How was he?’

  Kate’s eyebrows lifted as surprised clouded her face. ‘Fine, I think.’ She shook her head briefly. ‘Why?’

  Maud came further into the room and sat on a small chair. She put her hands on her knees and looked a little stiff. It was as though she was struggling to come up with the right words.

  ‘Did he tell you where he’d been this morning?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No. He said it was business.’

  Maud lifted her chin. ‘You do understand that he has been through a great deal lately, what with the death of his wife, the twins and running the estate.’

  Kate said she understood, although she wasn’t sure where this was leading to. ‘It must have been awful for him.’

  ‘Yes, but the estate is difficult to m
anage and Mister Jeremy has deep concerns about that.’

  Kate was beginning to see a softening in Maud’s character. Yesterday she was the no-nonsense, matriarchal housekeeper: all stiff and starched. Now she was showing what Kate believed was a maternal feeling towards Mister Jeremy.

  ‘Is the estate in trouble?’ she asked.

  There was a flicker of a smile. ‘During the war, the house was commandeered by the military. The country was bankrupt when the war ended. The government’s reparation was never sufficient to make up for what the estate lost. It’s been a constant struggle since then, and now there’s a suggestion that a large part of our land is to be compulsorily purchased to build a new trunk road to London.’ She looked downcast now. ‘The death of Mister Jeremy’s wife was not only a bitter blow, but the care of the twins only added to his worries. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but yesterday he spoke of having the twins adopted.’

  Kate had been standing while Maud was talking, but now she sank back into the bed. Even though she had only been with the twins less than twenty-four hours, the news of what had been planned shocked her. Maud could see it on her face.

  ‘The reason I’m telling you, Kate, is because I don’t want you to become too attached to the twins.’ She stood up, her hands clasped across the front of her skirt. ‘Once the adoption process begins, it could take as much as a year to complete. I think it’s only fair to let you know that when that happens, you will be out of a job.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but that’s the way it is.’ She turned away and went to the door, where she stopped. As she opened it she looked back at Kate. ‘Whatever you do,’ she said softly, ‘don’t get to love them too much.’

  THREE

  Max and Emma, 2010

  Max came down the stairs of the hotel filled with the boundless energy of someone looking forward to the prospect of a rewarding day. The evening spent with Emma had been like a voyage of discovery. Emma had not revealed too much of her past, and Max found her reluctance had to be unravelled slowly, one piece at a time. It was like painting by numbers until a fuller picture emerged, but he wasn’t able to complete the picture and it teased him; he wanted more. But along with Max’s excitement, there was a note of caution: Emma wasn’t aware of his career as a writer. He had learned that she only read romance, and most of that in magazines. He realized that Emma had never heard of him, which pleased him considerably. But there was always the risk that someone would recognize him and make that known while he was in Emma’s company. Max had built enough plots, with the twists and turns of deceit and conniving men intent on corrupting innocent victims, to know that Emma could be lost to him if she discovered he had been lying about himself. He suspected that her life had been nothing out of the ordinary, and that she had never had much in the way of money. She refused to talk about her divorce, but had admitted that her ex-husband was in prison. Max wondered if the scar Emma was so careful to hide had anything to do with that.

  He walked into the dining room with these thoughts running through his head and looked around for Emma. He couldn’t see her anywhere. He went across to the breakfast bar and helped himself to a bowl of cereal, poured boiling water into a teapot and found an empty table alongside one of the windows that looked out over the hotel garden. The waitress came over and Max ordered eggs and bacon. He hoped Emma would put in an appearance soon.

  In the end, Max was to be disappointed; Emma didn’t show. He was surprised at just how much that affected him. He scolded himself for being so childish; Emma was a grown woman and about twenty years his junior, so why on earth, he wondered, was he feeling so smitten? Feeling seriously contrite, Max levered himself from his chair and took his leave of the dining room. As he walked across the lobby, Max saw Emma come hurrying through the front door. When she saw him her face brightened. So did Max’s.

  ‘Oh, Max,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘Sorry I’m late; I had something to do.’ She was carrying a small, fancy carrier bag. Max was so pleased to see her, he was lost for words. ‘Have you had breakfast?’ she asked.

  Max said he had.

  ‘Well, I need to grab something. Do you want to sit with me while I eat?’

  Max’s face broadened into a big smile. ‘You bet I do. I can always have a cup of tea.’

  Emma laughed as they walked into the breakfast room. Max felt slightly self-conscious and wondered if his excitement was obvious. No doubt, he thought as they settled at a table, the waitress would read something into it, but he didn’t care if another day in Emma’s company was the prospect.

  Suddenly Max’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the name of the caller. ‘Shit!’ The epithet came quietly from his lips. It was his agent. He ignored the call and turned the phone off, then looked across the table at Emma.

  ‘It’s my editor,’ he said without further explanation.

  Emma thought she’d seen Max’s expression darken for a moment. ‘Shouldn’t you call back?’ she asked.

  Max shook his head. ‘It probably isn’t important.’

  ‘I didn’t think editors worked on Saturdays.’

  He laughed. ‘They don’t as a rule, but their minds are never far away from their work. Probably calling from home anyway.’

  Two minutes later, Max’s phone rang. He shut his eyes and cursed under his breath, cancelling the call at the same time.

  Emma leaned forward. ‘Look, Max, I think you should answer it, don’t you?’

  He was reluctant to do that but knew his agent would not let go; particularly as it was a Saturday, which meant there was a good reason for the call.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. I’ll take it in my room.’ He got up from the table. ‘Don’t go anywhere, Emma,’ he said with a hint of a plea in his voice. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Max hurried up to his room. ‘What is it, Jonathan?’ he asked as soon as his agent came on the phone.

  ‘Max! Where have you been?’

  ‘Jonathan, it’s barely past nine in the morning. Where do you think I’ve been?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Jonathan answered without even an apology for the early call. ‘Jacintha wants a meeting. Seems they have something big lined up. When can you get here?’

  ‘Jonathan, it’s Saturday,’ Max reminded him. ‘No one works on a Saturday, especially publishers.’

  ‘She’s your editor, Max,’ his agent reminded him. ‘She wants a working lunch tomorrow.’

  Max sighed and looked up at the ceiling. ‘No, Jonathan, it simply isn’t convenient; it will have to be Monday at the earliest.’

  ‘No can do, Max; Jacintha’s flying off to New York tomorrow evening. She needs something from you for the New York office.’

  ‘Jonathan, you’re my agent. You’re supposed to take care of things like this, that’s what I pay you for.’ He could feel himself getting angry although it was really a feeling of major disappointment that his agent could be the cause of a ruined weekend. ‘So let me spell it out for you: I’m busy.’

  ‘How can you be busy at nine o’clock in the morning in Bournemouth for goodness sake?’

  ‘Portsmouth, Jonathan. I’m in Portsmouth.’

  ‘Great. That means it will only take you a couple of hours to get here. You can have lunch and be back down there early evening.’

  Max was aware of the speed at which things could develop in the publishing business as well as the paucity of events sometimes, but Jacintha was a damn good editor and a friend. He really didn’t want to let her down.

  ‘Look,’ he said finally, ‘tell Jacintha I’ll be in town tomorrow evening. If necessary I’ll fly to New York with her. I can’t do any more than that.’ He meant it; there was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity of spending another day in Emma’s company.

  ‘OK, Max. I’ll call you back. You can get back to bed now with that woman you’ve got with you.’

  ‘Jonathan!’ Max roared down the phone.

  ‘Joking, Max, only joking.’

/>   Max switched off with the sound of his agent’s laughter ringing in his ears. He sat there for a while wondering what on earth his editor wanted. Not that it mattered; ordinarily it would have been dealt with by his agent or a short visit himself to London. He suspected it was a signature, something Jonathan couldn’t do. He looked down at the phone and hit the speed dial for his editor.

  ‘Jacintha Fairbanks. Good morning.’

  Max loved the sound of her sing-song voice; it had such a cheer to it. ‘Jacintha, it’s Max. I’ve had a call from Jonathan—’

  Ah yes, Max,’ she interrupted. ‘I need something for our New York office. It’s the detail of overseas digital rights. Jonathan has prepped something for you, but it would help if I could have your sight of this before I leave.’

  ‘How come you’re running round doing Jonathan’s work?’

  She laughed down the phone. ‘Well, this is typical of the man, I know, but I have to admit he was so nice when he asked me.’

  Max looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. ‘So that he doesn’t have to go to New York, right?’

  ‘Well, I am going anyway,’ she told him. ‘And it would make things easier all round. All I need is for you to run over the relevant clauses with Jonathan and me.’

  It was Max’s turn to interrupt. ‘But you have nothing to do with contracts, Jacintha.’

  ‘I know, Max, but it’s like I told you: this is a favour for Jonathan. I’m simply acting as a courier. You sound very reluctant, by the way,’ she added. ‘Is there a problem?’

  Yes, he thought to himself. I’ve just met this gorgeous woman who has made me the happiest I’ve been in such a long time that I don’t want it to end, and I certainly don’t want to go swanning off to London in the middle of a perfect start to what could be my new life.

  ‘No, I’ve just got the hump, that’s all,’ he told her with a slight affectation in his voice. Then a thought crossed his mind about hurrying up to London in the afternoon, as Jonathan suggested, and getting back to Portsmouth early evening. It meant leaving Emma for a few hours, but he was sure he could manage that small sacrifice.